


this boy's an open page

by almostannette



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Job, Credence got his Ilvermorny letter, Credence is of age, Graves as a teacher, Ilvermorny, M/M, Sex Magic, Student/Teacher-Relationship, Wand-shopping, all the students have a crush on him, but like, first-time, in cute, matching Patroni, who's homophobia i don't know them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostannette/pseuds/almostannette
Summary: Ilvermorny Senior Credence Barebone has to deal with his embarrassing crush on one of his teachers, Percival Graves.





	this boy's an open page

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "Don't Stand So Close To Me" by The Police.
> 
> Thanks to my friend, who beta-read this for me!

_1920_

At Ilvermorny, Credence Barebone stuck out like a sore thumb. All of his roommates in Wampus House were descendants of respectable American pureblood families and it just so happened that Credence was the only No-Maj-raised wizard in his year.

On his eleventh birthday, a strange woman had arrived at the rickety New York church building where Credence had lived to hand-deliver an acceptance letter for Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mary Lou Barebone, Credence’s adoptive mother had been furious, declared Credence beyond redemption and made it very clear that he didn’t have a home anymore.

The woman, who Credence had later found out was a witch and the Headmistress of Ilvermorny, had assured him he would have a home at Ilvermorny and that there was a scholarship fund for pupils in need.

(Credence hated that expression, ‘in need’. It wasn’t his fault he was poor, just like his roommates, the heirs to the Jauncey, Weiss and Lopez families hadn’t done anything to deserve being born into wealthy, respected pureblood families.)

He was used to their taunts after six years of rooming together - “Hey, you sissy! The Wampus statue must have made a mistake at the Sorting! You, a warrior? More like a wet blanket!”. Credence had signed up for advanced dueling as an extracurricular this term in order to learn how to defend himself better. It had been a highly coveted class, because it was rumored it would be taught by an actual MACUSA Auror.

Still, when Credence first went into the classroom, his mouth ran dry at the sight of their dueling instructor. He was about as tall as Credence, but broader, much more muscular than Credence would ever be. His facial expression was unreadable but it was a very nice face, Credence thought and blushed to the roots of his hair. He very nearly avoided tripping and quickly chose a desk as far away from Paul Weiss and Tiago Lopez as possible.

He glanced at the board. “Percival Graves, Senior Auror, MACUSA,” was written on it in bold letters. Graves - he was a descendant of the Original Twelve and worked as an Auror. How fitting, Credence thought.

The rest of the students sauntered in and took their places. At five o’clock sharp, Auror Graves clapped his hands and gave them all an unimpressed look. “You signed up for Advanced Dueling,” he began. “I’m to be your instructor for this term. There is no need to call me professor, you may address me as Mr. Graves. First of all, as tedious as it is, I will need to take attendance. I’ll read out your names and you’ll just say “yes” and raise your hand if you hear your name.”

Mr. Graves voice was a low rumble that made Credence hang unto his every word. After ‘Abrams, Ida’ and ‘Avery, William’, Mr. Graves inevitably read ‘Barebone, Credence’ and raised one of his eyebrows.

“Yes?” Credence said and timidly raised his hand. Mr. Graves’ eyes fell upon him and Credence felt as though they looked right through him, pierced his soul and could see every single one of Credence’s secrets.

“Barebone, a rather unfortunate name for a wizard these days,” Mr. Graves commented. “If you forgive my saying so,” he quickly amended.

Credence gulped. “I was adopted, Sir,” he said. “I’m not a Barebone by blood.”

Mr. Graves just nodded and finished taking attendance. What followed was a quick introduction to the purpose of this class - the goal was to introduce them to what actual, effective fighting could look like and to begin to “know your ass from your wand-arm”, in Mr. Graves’ rather crass words. The first class started with physical warming up exercises (“Even if you can cast all your spells perfectly, physical strength, endurance and agility will give you an additional edge on your opponent”) and moved on to drills of the basic dueling spells so Mr. Graves could assess their current skill level.

Credence barely avoided being the worst student in the class, but just because Eva Gorski managed to disarm herself while casting _Expelliarmus_. Mr. Graves had given her an exasperated look and told her to try again. Credence wanted to impress the Auror with his spellcasting and dueling skills, but he knew that it was hopeless. The truth was that Credence sometimes doubted if he was really a fully-powered wizard at all.

It seemed he could only achieve any flawless magic when he was doing accidental magic. If he dropped a glass, his magic would catch it every time, but as soon as he picked up his wand and tried to do a spell by the book, his spellwork turned out sloppy. His teachers kept telling him to practice his wand movements and the pronunciation of the spells - Credence did, but it never worked as well as he’d hoped.

The main reason why he signed up for the advanced class at all was because he wanted to give himself an ultimatum to get his spellwork in order before his final exams.

If he didn’t manage to finally get a grip on his magic, Credence didn’t know what he would do after graduation. Who was going to hire a wizard who could only successfully cast maybe two-thirds of the spells he attempted, a wizard named ‘Barebone’ to boot?

Over the course of the next few months, Credence threw himself into his work and spent hours each day in the library, trying to research way to focus his magic, even going so far as to leaf through embarrassingly titled-works like “How to Stop Worrying and Start Witching”, “7 Habits of Highly Powerful Wizards” and “Magic for Dummies”.

Credence focused on his work and gave it his all, especially in Advanced Dueling, and not only because Mr. Graves was the most handsome man he’d ever seen and he could feel butterflies in his stomach whenever the attractive Auror looked at Credence. Of course, he wasn’t the only person who’d noticed that and the closer they got to Christmas, the more pureblood students tried to issue invitations to Mr. Graves and get him to attend the Christmas Parties at their estates, even though the Auror politely declined all the invitations.

The popularity was easily explained - within the structure of MACUSA, Percival Graves was easily the most sought after male bachelor. Lots of witches and a handful of wizards in Wampus House had admitted that they wouldn't mind getting hitched with the handsome Auror, age difference be damned. Hearing his classmates speak like that upset Credence, but he knew he was delusional. Percival Graves would never go for one of his students and even if he did, he’d never be interested in a meek, clumsy klutz like Credence Barebone, not when he could have Theo Wilkinson, only heir to the Wilkinson family fortune or Arabella Picquery, inarguably the most intelligent among the Seniors as well as niece to current Vice-president and rumored to be next President Seraphina Picquery.

He was crushing on a teacher, Credence thought with embarrassment every time he was in advanced dueling and sometimes outside of class as well - Mercy Lewis, hopefully Mr. Graves wasn't a legilimens. Luckily, he seemed to treat Credence just like his other students. Perhaps he had more patience with Credence, but it might just have been pity for the poor weak No-Maj-born orphan boy who couldn't even get a simple stunning spell right.

The term flew by and soon it was the week before Christmas - Advanced Dueling was the last class before the holidays.

“You will learn very advanced magic today,” Mr. Graves began and Credence paled. He could barely keep up with the regular content of the class and now it was going to become even more difficult? “Casting non-verbal spells was already covered in your sixth year and I assume you are all more or less adept at it. Remember, in a fight, even the slightest edge can decide whether you live or die.”

A chill ran down Credence’s spine. Mr. Graves appeared to be speaking from experience.

“Today we will begin learning wandless magic.”

Credence gulped. He hadn't even properly mastered casting spells with a wand, how abysmal would he be without one? Probably the only person in the class who wouldn't be able to cast any spell. Mr. Graves would finally realize what a dimwit Credence was and kick him out of the class.

“Wandless magic gives you yet another edge in dueling as you can continue to cast spells even after you have been disarmed. If you're lucky, your opponent won't expect you to be able to fight back without a wand and you can catch them off-guard. We will begin with the most basic spells today, before we move on to offensive and defensive spells in the next lesson after Christmas,” Mr. Graves announced. With a lazy wave of his hand, he conjured up a number of feathers out of thin air; another wave of his hand sent them floating through the air, until a feather landed on each student’s desk. “I am sure you recognize this exercise from your very first Charms lesson. We’ll try _Wingardium Leviosa_ first.”

A few of the cockier students scoffed, but Credence wrung his hands. They were to cast the levitation charm on the feather without their wand.

“You may still say the incantation out loud,” Mr. Graves had said with a wry grin. “For now, at least. Don't be discouraged if you can't get it right on you first or even your fifth try. We tend to rely so much on our wands that wandless magic takes a lot of time to learn.”

Credence breathed in and concentrated on how his magic felt, swirling inside him and visualized the feather floating in the air. Maybe the long hours of research in the library would finally pay off.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_ ,” Credence said, held out his hand and pushed his magic outwards, towards the feather.

He’d thought that without his wand to act as a conduit, his magic would never be strong enough to lift the feather even a fraction of an inch, but the feather rose up into the air until it hovered about a foot over Credence’s head.

He stared at it for a few moments, transfixed, before he began to take in the sounds of the classroom again, frustrated noises and impatiently called spells pervaded the air.

“This is impossible,” Tiago Lopez shouted.

“It is entirely possible,” Mr. Graves countered. “Mr. Barebone here got it right on his first try.”

Credence felt all eyes on him and his blush intensified.

“He must have cheated,” Paul Weiss called from the back of the room. “Everyone knows Credence is almost a Squib. No idea how he even got into Ilvermorny. My house-elf has more magic in the tip of her pinky-finger…”

“That will be quite enough, Mr. Weiss,” Mr. Graves reprimanded him. “Another comment like that and you will be banned from this class.” He turned to Credence and his expression softened again. “Mr. Barebone, would you demonstrate, please?”

Credence pulled his magic back to himself and the feather floated back down. He was sure he couldn't do it now, not when everyone's eyes were on him. Yet, when he tried and cast the spell again, the feather rose into the air just like before, even though it wobbled a bit on the way up.

“Nearly perfect execution of a wandless levitation charm on the first and second try,” Mr. Graves said. “Twenty points to Wampus House. You have earned them, Mr. Barebone.”

Credence’s breath hitched and he cancelled the spell, for fear of losing control of his magic if he had to keep it up any longer under the watchful gaze of Mr. Graves. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I want you all to keep trying to levitate your feather,” Mr. Graves announced, before he leaned forward. “Mr. Barebone, you can move on to levitating your spellbook,” he said in a lower voice.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

Credence stared at his old, second-hand copy, held together with spell-o-tape and the occasional _Reparo_ charm. He focused again and tried to find that elusive “whirl and hum of magic” the books had spoken of. Credence had never felt anything like it. He only ever felt a certain sort of tension inside him and when he cast a spell, it felt like had to _force_ his magic through his wand, nothing like the “flow” the books had spoken of. Perhaps it was no wonder Credence’s magic always came out crippled and wrong.

Casting wandless magic had felt so different, Credence thought. It was an exhilarating feeling and he just hoped he could replicate it when he cast his levitation charm on the book.

He would need more power to lift the book off the desk, he knew. Credence tuned out the voices around him and took a deep breath. And another. And another. Feel the magic, the guidebooks had said. He thought he felt a spark. He concentrated on the feeling and let it fill his entire being, until he felt like he was brimming with magic, nearly vibrating with power.

Credence visualized the book floating in the air, the shape of the spell and finally he pushed all his magic towards the book. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he whispered, almost as an afterthought.

His book shot up into the air and came to hover halfway between the floor and the ceiling. However, the book wasn’t the only thing that had went flying. Every other object in the room that hadn’t been attached to the floor was floating in the air as well, at the same height of his book - desks, quills, other books and even his classmates. Much to his chagrin, Credence realized, Mr. Graves was suspended in the air as well and stared at Credence with an open mouth for a moment before he recovered.

“This was unexpected, Mr. Barebone,” he said and, with a wave of his wand, he placed everything and everyone on the floor again. For the first time, Mr. Graves was not his usual calm and composed self, but he seemed almost agitated.

“I’m sorry,” Credence said.

“Class dismissed for today. I expect you to work on your wandless magic during your Christmas break. You should be able to levitate small to medium objects by the next lesson,” he declared. The students started to gather their things, shook their heads and gave Credence weird looks.

“Freak,” he heard more than once.

Credence was about to slip out of the classroom when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned around. “Sir?”

“Please, Mr. Barebone, stay for a moment,” Mr. Graves said. “I’d like to have a conversation with you.”

Of course his failure would have consequences. There were _always_ consequences. “I’m so sorry, Professor, I swear,” Credence tried to convince the man let him go. “Please, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Mr. Graves led them over to his desk, but instead of sitting down, he just leaned against the desk, crossed his arms in front of him and gave Credence a look as though he were a puzzle he was trying to figure out. “I have never seen anything like what you just did,” Mr. Graves began.

“I didn’t mean to, Sir,” he mumbled. “My magic must somehow be broken.”

“Broken,” Mr. Graves scoffed, as if he’d never heard such a preposterous notion before. “Mr. Barebone - Credence - what you just did was a miracle! Wizards who have been studying wandless magic for decades struggle to achieve what you just accomplished! How did you do that?”

Credence looked down at his worn out shoes. “I focused and used more power than for the feather,” he said. “It felt so different than casting with my wand.”

Mr. Graves looked intrigued. “Different? How exactly?”

Credence shrugged. “I sometimes struggle to produce any magic at all when I cast with my wand. That’s why Paul called me a Squib.”

“May I see your wand?” Mr. Graves asked.

Credence reluctantly handed over his wand.

“What’s it made from?”

“Ash wood and a core of kneazle whiskers,” Credence mumbled.

“Mercy Lewis, I didn’t know they still made kneazle core wands,” Mr. Graves said rather to himself than to Credence. “It looks rather scratched, too.”

“It was like this when I bought it,” Credence said defensively. He didn’t want Mr. Graves to think he didn’t take care of his things and wasn’t grateful that he was allowed at Ilvermorny at all.

“You got a second-hand wand?” Mr. Graves asked, sounding surprised as well as scandalized.

“It was all I could afford,” Credence admitted. “The school...there is a fund, but the allowances haven’t been updated in decades. Books, uniforms, kettles...they are all so expensive, even when buy them used that I…”

“I understand,” Mr. Graves cut in and gave Credence’s wand a calculating look. With his own wand, he conjured up another one of the dummies on which they practiced offensive spells and switched the wands. “ _Stupefy_ ! _Impedimenta_ ! _Expecto Patronum_!” he cast with Credence’s wand in the direction of the dummy. The spells were not as strong as Credence would have expected from a wizard like Mr. Graves and his Patronus took on the form of a Wampus cat for just a split second before it dissipated into silvery mist. “No wonder you can’t do proper magic with this wand, Credence,” he concluded. “It seems you have more power than a kneazle whiskers core could handle and Ash wood is not known for taking kindly to more than one master.”

“Oh,” Credence said quietly, relieved and embarrassed at the same time.

“Why has none of your teachers ever talked to you about the issue of your wand?”

“I’m not talented or...or even particularly interesting, Mr. Graves,” Credence replied. “And a Barebone. An unfortunate name for a wizard, you said so yourself.”

“That was a thoughtless remark and I apologize,” Mr. Graves said. “Still, you are are in dire need of a functioning wand. The best and most powerful wands in the States are made by Jonker, Wolfe, Quintana or Beauvais.”

“They are also the most expensive wands, Mr. Graves,” Credence dared to point out.

“But think of what you could do with the right wand,” Mr. Graves insisted.

“The scholarship money is not enough to buy a new wand,” Credence confessed and shuffled his feet.

Mr. Graves looked as though he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it at the last moment. Instead, he cast a _Tempus_ charm and swore under his breath when he saw the time. “I will contact you within the next few days, Mr. Barebone,” he said, packed up his things and strode out of the room.

“Contact?” Credence echoed quietly, but Mr. Graves apparently hadn't heard him. Why would Mr. Graves want to contact him? Would he have to serve detention for disrupting the class?

He ran after Mr. Graves and wanted to ask him, but when he made it out of the room, he saw Mr. Graves speaking with Arabella Picquery. Credence certainly didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but Mr. Graves had his arm slung around Arabella’s shoulder and she said something to him that made him throw his head back and laugh. At the sight of the easy familiarity between them, something constricted painfully in Credence’s chest and his face grew hot.

“I can hardly say no to such a lovely invitation, can I?” Mr. Graves told her.

Credence turned on his heel and fled into the opposite direction, even though it meant he had to take a longer trip to the library. Get a hold of yourself, he thought with all his might, sat down in a secluded corner of the library and clutched his book bag to his chest for a few moments.

He started to practice wandless magic and tried to think of everything but Percival Graves and how handsome he looked when he laughed.

***

A few days later, a horned owl landed in front of Credence at breakfast and hooted at him.

“You must have got the wrong person,” Credence said. “I never get anything in the mail.”

The owl hooted once again and perched itself on Credence’s forearm, its talons digging painfully into his flesh. “That hurts,” he scolded the owl, picked up a piece of bacon from his plate and fed it to the owl. “Now shoo,” he said, trying his hardest to be intimidating.

The bird stuck out one of its legs and hooted insistently, until Credence gave a sigh of resignation and freed the bird from the envelope it was carrying. He could always hand-deliver it to the intended recipient, after all.

When he saw the familiar handwriting on the envelope, Credence blinked in surprise. “Credence Barebone, Wampus House, Senior Year, Ilvermorny” the address read and Credence knew that if he turned the envelope around, the sender would be designated as “Percival Graves”.

He opened the envelope with shaking hands, not trusting himself to try a slicing hex for fear of destroying the letter.

_Dear Credence,_

_Let’s see if we cannot find a solution to your wand problem. Meet me at Dragon’s Square on the 23rd at noon, if you can._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Percival Graves_

Credence closed his eyes, pinched himself and reread the letter. And reread it again. And a third time, just to make sure.

The owl hooted again to get Credence’s attention and he swore it was glancing at the letter. It stuck its leg out again.

“Oh, you want a reply?” Credence asked.

The owl clicked it’s beak and beat it’s wings twice, as if to say it was urgent. Credence carefully cleared his part of the table and took out his pen of his bookbag and started writing on the back of the letter.

_Thank you, Mr. Graves, I would be very happy to meet you._

_Yours,_

_Credence Barebone_

Before he folded up the letter again, he traced his finger over Mr. Graves’ handwriting and blushed to the roots of his hair.

He folded it up, put it back into the envelope and cast a quick, wandless _Reparo_ on the envelope to repair it again. After snatching another two pieces of bacon from Credence’s plate, the owl was off again.

***

On December 23rd, Credence flooed to the main Floo Point at Dragon’s Square and almost spilled all of his Floo Powder before he even made it to the fireplace, because his hands were shaking with feverish anticipation.

At Ilvermorny, nobody had seemed to mind, or even care, when he’d asked for permission to spend the day in wizarding New York. As far as the staff was concerned, Credence was of age and could do whatever he wanted.

He stepped out of the fireplace, cast a wandless _Scourgify_ on his robes to get rid of the worst of the ash and soot and looked around. To his immense delight, he saw Mr. Graves was already waiting for him and, heart hammering in his chest, Credence made his way towards him, all while he hoped he could cut a more striking figure, had done something with his hair, wasn’t wearing his shabby, often-mended school uniform…

“Credence!” Mr. Graves greeted him. “I am so glad you could make it.”

“Hello,” Credence said softly. “I-I was very surprised when I received your owl, Mr. Graves,” he confessed.

“You can use my first name,” Mr. Graves said. “We’re not at school.”

“Yes, Mr. Gra-, I mean, yes, Percival,” Credence stammered. Secretly, he liked how the name Percival sounded. Like a knight of times of old, ready for heroic deeds. Mr. Graves - Percival, he corrected himself - Percival looked the part as well.

“I don’t quite understand how you mean to solve my wand problem,” Credence admitted. “Wands are 15 dragots, at least, and I had to buy my textbooks for this year already, I don’t have much money left.”

In lieu of an answer, Percival gave him an amused look and glanced at his pocketwatch. “I’m sure we’ll find a solution,” he said. “Do you want to have lunch first?”

“Yes?” Credence whispered.

“Was that an answer or a question?”

“An answer,” Credence clarified, but as soon as he’d spoken, he realized that Mr. Graves had been joking.

“Lunch is on me, of course,” Mr. Graves said.

“I couldn’t possibly...there’s no need…,” Credence stammered, just short of pointing out that he didn’t need to have lunch when he would get a full dinner at Ilvermorny anyway.

“It would be my pleasure,” Mr. Graves added.

He let Mr. Graves lead him into a diner - it looked almost frighteningly fancy and Credence felt out of place with his unruly curls and in his patched up Ilvermorny uniform. “Percival, everyone is looking at me,” Credence whispered, embarrassed. “Maybe we shouldn’t...I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Mr. Graves slid a finger under Credence’s chin and made him look into Mr. Graves’ eyes. “No,” he corrected Credence. “They’re looking at _us_. I’m sure they’re all wondering about the mysterious, attractive young man having lunch with the Graves heir.” He gave Credence an encouraging smile, before his hand settled at the small of Credence’s back and he gently steered him towards a table.

They ate their lunch in awkward silence and a few times, Credence was on the verge of casting a subtle notice-me-not, so the other patrons would stop staring at him.

After they had finished their meal Mr. Graves picked up the check, two dragots and thirty sprinks, Credence noted, they exited the diner and Mr. Graves pulled him aside, into a nearby alley. “Do you feel alright?” he asked. “You’re looking paler than usual.”

Credence stared at the ground, at the gray-brown slush, a combination of snow and dirt. He thought back to when he’d been a child, still unaware of the existence of magic, freezing half to death while handing out leaflets to convince No-Maj pedestrians of the sinfulness of witchcraft.

“I’m fine,” Credence lied. “But even if we find a wand for me today, I still wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

Mr. Graves looked awkward and insecure for a moment. He suddenly seemed so different from the man Credence was used to seeing in classes. “I wanted to wait until we found the right wand for you, but I might as well tell you now,” Mr. Graves explained. “You may think of the wand as a Christmas present.”

Credence’s breath caught in his throat - Mr. Graves was buying him a Christmas present? “I don’t...Mr. Graves, Percival...why?” he stammered and felt his face grow hot, despite the low temperatures.

“Your current wand keeps you from reaching your full potential. You can’t possibly take your final exams with it,” he maintained.

“But the price,” Credence tried to argue.

“You don’t need to worry, MACUSA pays well,” Mr. Graves replied dryly and that was the end of the conversation.

They walked out of the alley again, away from the dining area and into the direction of the shops. “My family swears on Jonker wands, but I believe Wolfe’s might be a good place to start looking for _your_ wand,” Mr. Graves said as he directed Credence into a wand shop.

“Why would you think so?” Credence asked, puzzled, and followed Mr. Graves into the shop.

“Because their wands are said to be the most powerful,” Mr. Graves said in a completely serious tone of voice as if he hadn’t just called Credence “half a Squib” Barebone worthy of a powerful wand.

“Sir, uh...Percival,” Credence began. “Are you _sure_ this is a good idea?”

Mr. Graves opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted when someone, who Credence assumed had to be Shikoba Wolfe, entered the room. “Percival Graves,” they greeted him. “Fifteen inches, ebony, with a wampus hair core, surprisingly flexible. Well-suited for transfiguration and combative magic.”

“Correct,” Mr. Graves replied. “How do you know? I bought my wand at Jonker’s.”

“I apprenticed at Jonker’s at the time,” Wolfe clarified. “And who have you brought into my shop?” they asked. “A bit too old to be your son, isn’t he? Then again, you Graves always had a reputation…”

“ _This_ is Credence Barebone,” Mr. Graves cut in. “He’s a very talented young wizard who needs a functioning wand. The one he has been using is of sub-par quality.”

Shikoba Wolfe asked to see his wand. Credence handed it over and the wandmaker turned it over in their hands for a short moment, before they scoffed. “Kneazle whiskers,” they muttered under their breath and shook their head. “Let’s see if we can’t find the perfect match for you.”

Credence tried a few wands, but it was not until he was handed a beautifully carved wand that he felt his magic sing within him. He reached for the wand and he, along with Shikoba Wolfe and Mr. Graves, was immediately enveloped by a golden light.

Once the light had faded, Credence cast a few spells, _Aguamenti_ , _Avis_ and _Ventus Calidus_ , but he already knew that he’d found the right wand. Credence flushed as he saw Mr. Graves’ delighted expression and he couldn’t tear his gaze away, not until Shikoba Wolfe loudly cleared their throat.

“An apple wood wand with a Thunderbird tail feather as core. The inlay is made of calcite, while the handle is copper. Eleven inches, rather flexible. A powerful wand, suited for an owner of great personal charm,” they explained.

“Great personal charm?” Credence repeated with disbelief. “Me?”

“I think you’re plenty charming,” Mr. Graves said, and before Credence could respond in any way, he continued: “Do you like the wand?”

“Y-yes, it’s perfect,” he stammered. “I love it.”

Mr. Graves smiled at him and Credence’s world stopped for a short moment. How could Mr. Graves be so handsome and kind, it was hardly fair…

“That will be 28 dragots,” Shikoba Wolfe said and Credence watched with bated breath as Mr. Graves filled out a Gringotts owl-check to pay for the wand.

As they walked out of the shop, Credence clutched the box that contained his new wand close to his chest. Once he’d graduated, he’d immediately start looking for a job and pay back the cost of the wand to Mr. Graves in installments.

Credence slowly realized they were returning to the main Floo Point and hung his head. Of course this little excursion from reality was coming to an end faster than he would have liked. They came to a halt on a street corner, perhaps a hundred feet away from the Floo Point.

Credence nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other and Mr. Graves seemed to be searching for the right words to say.

“Thank you for buying me a wand,” Credence said to break the awkward silence. “I will pay you back, Percival, I promise.”

“There’s no need for that,” Mr. Graves cut in. “You should have been able to use a decent wand for all these years. The scholarship funds need to be updated for inflation - if need be, I’ll hold a fundraiser at the Woolworth Building myself. I’m sure I’ll meet the Headmistress and Headmaster at the Picquery Christmas Party, I will speak to them.”

“At the Picquery Party?” Credence echoed quietly. Why was he going to attend the Christmas Party of the Picquery family, but had declined every other invitation he’d gotten? Credence had seen him speaking with Arabella and they had seemed on more than friendly terms with each other. A betrothal, perhaps, that was going to be made official at said Christmas party? “But I shouldn’t be surprised. I have seen you speaking with Arabella,” he said, and he couldn’t explain why his voice sounded so strangled.

“Yes, Bella insisted I dance with her at the party,” Mr. Graves replied off-handedly. “She said I should learn how to dance the Charleston in the meantime, because no witch or wizard is going to be impressed by a slow waltz.”

Why would they want to dance with each other, if they weren’t betrothed?

“She’s very beautiful,” Credence whispered in a broken voice. He was sure he’d just felt his heart shatter into a million tiny pieces.

“Never thought about her that way. I’ve known Bella since she was a baby because Seraphina Picquery is my best friend,” Mr. Graves explained, before his expression softened. “Why do you look so sad? You know, she’s not as beautiful as you.”

“ _What_?” Had Mr. Graves just said what Credence thought he’d heard him say? Had he called Credence beautiful or had he misheard him?

Mr. Graves groaned in embarrassment and ran a hand through his hair, ruining his perfectly coiffed hairstyle. “I shouldn’t have...I apologize, Credence. Please, just forget I said anything.”

“No,” he protested with much more force than he’d ever expected from himself. “No, Mr. Graves, I want to know why you would...say that.”

Mr. Graves squared his shoulders and his face took on an expression of polite disinterest, which Credence recognized from all the Pureblood students. He could also tell that it was completely fake. “I confess, I have feelings for you that go beyond the feelings a teacher should have for one of his students. However, you may rest assured that I will not act on them and will not let them influence…”

It was completely different from all the heartfelt confessions Credence had dreamed up on his own during lonely nights in the dorm, curtains spelled tightly shut and a silencing charm  around his bed for when he imagined what would follow after said confession.

“What if…,” Credence began and licked his lips. He resisted the urge to bat his lashes. “What if I _wanted_ you to act on them?”

“Credence,” Mr. Graves whispered. “I don’t think you understood me. I didn’t mean to suggest I wanted you only for...you’re very handsome, yes...but the more time I spend with you, the more I find I want to get to _know_ you...I’m an old-fashioned man, Credence.”

In hindsight, Credence didn’t know how he had ever mustered up the courage to say what he said next, he only knew it was one of the best decisions he’d ever made. “Mr. Graves - Percival - are you saying you want to _court_ me?”

“Yes, I suppose...if you’d let me?” He sounded _shy_. What Credence possessed that could make a wizard like Mr. Graves sound shy he didn’t know, but it suddenly emboldened him.

“Old-fashioned, you said?” he teased. “No kissing until the wedding?”

Mr. Graves flicked his wrist and Credence felt the familiar, tingling sensation of a Notice-Me-Not charm settle over them. “Maybe not quite so old-fashioned,” Mr. Graves replied and reached out to cradle Credence’s face between his large, warm hands.

He leaned in, Credence nodded his permission and they shared their first kiss.

***

Percival Graves’ owl became a regular sight at Credence’s spot at the Wampus table. Some of his classmates whispered behind Credence’s back, but he didn’t care. Whenever he received a letter from Percival, nothing else mattered to him.

They could sneak a few clandestine kisses between classes, or, on one memorable occasion, Percival had given Credence detention and they had spent the hour in the empty classroom, kissing each other until Percival had to teach Credence a spell to remove hickeys, so as to not arouse suspicion.

***

On Valentine’s Day, Credence received an enormous bouquet and a huge box of candies, which did nothing to stop the rumor mill. The card only said _Your secret admirer_ and Credence had to bite his lip during Advanced Dueling that day to keep himself from beaming at Percival.

***

At graduation, Credence breezed through his practical exams and during his Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, he let his Wampus Patronus prowl through the room towards Percival, who was one of the examiners. The large silvery cat playfully nipped at Percival’s shins, and the grin his lover gave him almost made Credence lose focus during his exam.

***

Credence gasped into Percival’s mouth as they kissed. “We’re not even married yet,” he whispered with a smile. “What would people think of us if they knew…?”

Percival took Credence’s left hand in his and ran his thumb over the delicate golden ring he’s put there. “We’re as good as married,” Percival said. “Just a few months more and then I can call you my husband.”

Their kisses and touches gradually became more and more heated.

After Credence had graduated, they’d waited a few weeks and then he’d moved in with Percival. It was the third night they spent together and while they’d given each other pleasure using their hands and mouths before, tonight it was understood they’d go further.

Credence vanished their clothes with a lazy wave of his hand and Percival flinched in surprise before he regained his composure and leveled a smirk at Credence. “Someone’s eager,” he chuckled and pulled Credence closer.

He’d never get enough of this, not if he had all the time in the world. Exploring Percival’s body, the bulk of his muscles, the latent strength of his arms and thighs with the knowledge that every inch of this beautiful man belonged to Credence and to Credence alone was exhilarating and exciting.

Credence kissed his way down Percival’s torso, paying special attention to the odd curse scar he found and comforted himself with the knowledge that Percival had good chances of being promoted to Director of Magical Security within the next few years, a prestigious job that involved a good deal more paperwork and less fieldwork than his current position as Senior Auror.

By now, he had reached his target and licked a long line from the base of Percival’s cock all the way up to the head. He observed Percival’s expression and noted that his fiancé seemed transfixed by the sight. Credence smirked for a moment before he fitted as much of Percival’s cock into his mouth as he could without gagging.

Credence couldn’t understand how he had ever thought of the simple act of using his mouth to please his lover as scandalous or even shameful. With Percival, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, and Credence hollowed his cheeks to suck harder to tease out more of those guttural moans he liked so much.

Percival’s ran a hand through Credence’s hair and indicated he should stop. “Not yet, darling. I want to finish inside you,” Percival muttered breathlessly and Credence, for shameless he’d thought he’d become, felt the blood rush to his cheeks.

“ _Percival_ ,” he mumbled.

“Unless you don’t want me to,” his fiancé amended.

“No, I...I’d like it if you...did that,” Credence whispered, but promptly groaned as Percival reached down and wrapped his hand around Credence’s dick.

“We still have to work on the dirty talk, beauty,” Percival said. “I know we talked about this before, but I’ll ask again. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” Credence hissed and cut him off with a kiss. “You asked me five times in the last twenty minutes and I said yes everytime.”

“Just making sure.” Percival peppered his face and neck with kisses and before they moved on the bed, so that Percival was spooning Credence from behind. “Now, I explained the spells to you before, there’s…”

“...one for cleaning and protection, one for stretching and one for lubrication, I _know_ ,” Credence cut in and pressed his hips back against Percival’s groin. “Just cast them already.”

“I like it when you’re ordering me around,” Percival chuckled, pressed a kiss to Credence’s shoulder and muttered the spells under his breath.

Credence squeaked as the magic did its work. It didn’t feel unpleasant, just unfamiliar. He still had to reassure Percival three times that he was alright.

They went slow, as Percival had explained was best, until Credence got more used to the sensations, but Credence still thought it was the best night of his life so far, feeling Percival inside him, ever so often brushing against a spot that made Credence go cross-eyed and, when it happened for the first time, moan so loudly they would have woken the neighbors had it not been for a very strong silencing charm surrounding their bedroom.

Credence _felt_ it when Percival came inside him and waited until he’d caught his breath to pull out. Percival took Credence’s erection in his mouth and Credence thought he lasted a bit longer than the first few times they’d tried this, but he still came almost embarrassingly soon.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Percival had said with a wink the first time Credence had tried to apologize for it.

Later on, Credence fell asleep in his favorite place in the world - in Percival’s arms.


End file.
